Grocery Store Fun
by Ghislaine Cullen
Summary: The Cullens? At the grocery store? Why in the heck are they at the grocery store? Well, just read it, darn you!
1. HorseHungry

**Don't own Twilight, don't own Twilight, don't own Twilight.**

**sniff, sniff**

**Anyways, here we go...**

* * *

**Jacob's POV**

FINALLY! It took us like TWO FRICKING HOURS to get to the fricking grocery store!

"Jacob, it took ten minutes." Edward stared at me in a creep, trying-to-get-me-to-calm-down sort of way.

Hey, it's not my fault Jasper drives like my grandma.

Edward rolled his eyes.

"A_ny_ways..." remarked Renesmee, grabbing a cart, "Let's get this over with."

I looked at her beautiful face -

Edward kicked me in the shin.

"Hey, I didn't even _think_ it yet!"

"Yeah, but you were _about_ to."

Stupid, protective old man. Vampire. Whatever.

"OKAY," Jasper practically yelled. "What do you want to eat?"

"I don't even care. I could eat a horse right now." Not. Even. Kidding.

"You know, you're not helping with this," he didn't look at me as he said this.

"Look! Spaghetti!" Renesmee threw some in the cart. We were already in the pasta aisle, apparently.

There is a _lot _of pasta here. So many boxes...

"Oh, yes, Jacob, bask in the splendor of the many pasta boxes." Edward picked one up as he said this, examining the lable.

I knocked it from his hand and into the cart. I was hungry enough to eat an unidentified box of pasta. Without cooking it.

"That's disgusting," the mind-reader replied.

"You should talk."

"Alright-y, then, let's go get something you can eat SOON. Before we all have mental breakdowns."

"Junk food aisle, here we come."

* * *

**Woooo! I'm hyper!!!!!**

**Kneeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!**

**Junk food aisle!!!! Mountain Dew!!!!!!! Yaaaaaaaay!!!!!**

**Sorry. I can't help it. Not even kidding right now.**


	2. The Quest of the Frozen Aisle

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight. It is owned by Stephenie Meyer. **

**Wow, that was FORMAL!**

**Anyways, if you haven't noticed by now, they're at the grocery store for to buy food for Jacob. Who gets hungry sometimes. Yeah. That's it.**

**On with the show.**

* * *

**Jasper's POV**

This was... difficult.

No, it was more than difficult. In more ways than one.

First of all, this grocery store was full of _HUMANS!!!!!!!!!! _I swear to you, a family of three was standing not five feet away! And, to make it worse, they'd just come in from the cold, so their cheeks were flushed. With blood.

And to add insult to injury, the other people in this hellhole were none too happy, either. Especially the people I was with, and Jacob always gets mad when I try to calm it down, see -

"Knock it off." Told ya so. I am irritated and hassled, and so is everyone else.

We were in the junk food aisle, and Jacob was basically shoving whole shelves of prepackaged crap into the cart. Whatever happened to homecooked meals?

"They died a slow and painful death," said Edward.

I was kind of... preoccupied during this death. I bet it was a glorious one.

"No, not really." I sighed at his depressing response. Sigh.

"Hey, can I go look in the ... aisle over there?" I jabbed my thumb in the direction of a group of relatively calm people.

"Why- " started Renesmee, but Edward cut her off.

"Yes, definately." He would, undoubtedly, tell her my reason after I'd gone.

I picked up my own cart along the way to complete the facade. And so I could get some food for Jacob. The sooner we got out of here, the better.

Let's see, where was I headed? My mood steadily improved as I became nearer and nearer to the calm. Oh, the frozen food aisle.

Ah, frozen food.

Never tried it and don't plan to.

The source of the calmness was a woman and a pair of men, both at opposite ends of the aisle.

I gently maneuvered around the woman and her cart. "Excuse me, ma'am."

"Did you just call me ma'am?" she inquired sharply, her mood changing from calm to miffed.

"Ummm... yes." What was her problem, anyways?

"I'd prefer that you _didn't _call me that," she replied, turning back to the ice cream she had been staring at.

"Well why the h- why not?" This woman was getting on my nerves. For about half a second, I toyed with the idea of killing her, but then I stopped. She wasn't worth it.

And if I ate her, I might get some horrible, be-crabby-to-courteous-people disease.

"Well," she said frostily. "the word, 'ma'am' implies that I'm old, and do I look old to you?"

Hell, I don't know! I'm not exactly reliable when it comes to telling a person's age. For obvious reasons.

So I just shrugged.

Which, according to Ms. Crabby Pants, was not the right thing to do.

Her jaw dropped in outrage, and her eyebrows slanted like a seesaw.

"Did you just call me old?"

"No, lady, I just shrugged," I snapped impolitely. Again, I toyed with the idea of killing her, seeing her lifeless, but still kind of annoying in a deadish way, body sprawled-

Not worth it, not worth it, not worth it. Crabby disease, crabby disease, crabby disease.

Her outrage increased, and then abruptly and unnaturally turned to contentment.

Ah. There we go.

"Just leave me alone, you stupid little punk. Leave me alone," she said.

Ha, ha. I win. She got the last word, but I got to decide what those last words were. Stupid cranky lady.

I rolled my cart along the aisle, grabbing random boxes out of the freezer without lookin to see what they were.

Halfway to the end, I again noticed the two men standing together.

"C'mon, Burt," said a short, round man with excess facial hair and a lime green sweater. And plaid orange pants. Now there's something you don't see every day.

"I don't know, Gary. I'm kind of scared," replied tall man with a top hat. Yuck, top hats, I have top hat issues. I didn't even know they made them anymore.

"You won't be sorry," taunted Gary.

Burt felt uncertain. "I think we should stick to the Jell-O."

"Oh, fine." Gary was dissappointed.

The two left, and I walked over to see what they'd been looking at.

Frozen broccoli.

Okaaaay.

I was officially weirded out.

* * *

**Yeeeeeaaaaah.**

**That Jell-O thing was based on a real thing that happened to my friend at the grocery store. I suspect it was pretty traumatizing.**


	3. Schizorganize

**Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. It's all Stephenie Meyer's. And the grocery store belongs to Pick N' Save. **

**Yeah, you, Pick N' Save, this is my revenge for that time last summer when you didn't have Sun In, so we had to use Lemon Juice, which did NOT work. **

**I blame you, Pick N' Save. **

**I. Blame. You.**

**=C**

* * *

Why, oh why, oh why? Why did Alice have to drag Mom shopping today?

Sorry, Dad, but you have to admit, now that Jasper left-

"I know." He looked at the labyrinth of shelves awaiting us begrudgingly.

"Know what?" Jacob was angry. I could tell.

"This was a bad idea, " I told him.

"No, it wasn't. I was starving, and we have no food. We never have any food."

"Well," the word squeezed itself out of my throat as I pushed the metal cart forwards. I didn't really want to say this, but what else was there to be said? I couldn't let this happen _again! _This was torture to me!

"You could have just hunted."

Thank you, Dad, thank you, thank you.

"Awww, come on, now! That's not _nearly_ as good-" Jacob snatched a putrid-smelling cellophane bag off the shelf, which crackled noisily in response. "- as Cheetos!"

I shuddered away from it. Ew.

"Ah, fine, I'll put it back."

"No, no, take your darn Cheetos. Just eat them _far_ away from me."

Jake smiled and leaned down so that his face was even with mine-

"_Okay!_ What next?" Dad forcefully jerked the cart from my hands. "Ooh, how 'bout some of this lovely... stuff? A vile smelling cardboard box made a sound not unlike a pair of maracas being shook as it crashed into the metal grid.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. How... stupid.

Jacob smiled again, and settled for holding my hand. My arm started to tingle pleasantly, and I smiled back.

A few feet ahead, Dad pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows, staring distractedly at the shelves. He deftly plucked boxes from them, throwing the cardboard containers into the cart so that they landed with a loud THUMP on top of one another.

"Hold it, hold it! You're gonna break all the chips!" Jacob let go of my hand and ran forward to stop the bag of - I tilted my head to read it - Fritos from being massacred by the heavy box of glazed donuts.

I wondered why glazed donuts and chips would be next to each other. I'm no expert on food, but donuts and chips? One's soft and sugary, and the other's hard and crunchy.

Then I noticed a few cans of soup lined up like a battalion of soldiers... in the junk food aisle. Looking further, I saw more discrepancies. A loaf of bread situated next to some of Jacob's Cheetos. A row of Kleenex boxes. And cream cheese and raw meat, which I'm pretty sure was supposed to be refrigerated.

Dad stopped scooping boxes from the shelves, which made Jacob stop catching them before they hit his precious Cheetos.

"Yeah, they are," Dad said, furrowing his brow.

Jacob let out an angered sigh that sounded a heck of a lot like a growl. "_What_ are?!?"

In answer, Dad pointed to the meat with one hand, using his other to gesture towards the cream cheese.

At first, Jacob's jaw dropped in shock, but a couple seconds later his body was convulsing with laughter. "This whole thing was organized by a schizo!" In between chuckles. "What do we have in the cart?"

I looked, digging around a little with my hands. Chip bags, cereal boxes, soup cans, Q-tips, Pop-Tarts, and bottled water.

I started laughing, too.


End file.
